


we emerge victorious (the red in our ledgers is pride and glory)

by hawkguy (orphan_account)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Feels, F/M, FtM!Clint, Gratuitous Circus Scenes, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, ftm!Hawkeye, pre-avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hawkguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton has always been Clint Barton, he just took a little extra time getting there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we emerge victorious (the red in our ledgers is pride and glory)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a close friend, who really does idolize Hawkeye but can't seem to find enough stories in this genre. 
> 
> I took quite a few liberties with Clint's backstory to write this and know it might cause some controversy, so if this isn't your cup of tea, I'm sorry. Also, I did some research in the writing of this story to ensure accuracy, but I don't know everything.
> 
> Feel free to let me know if I've messed up anything.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy.

Barney growls when Carson finds the two of you hiding under the carts at night, pulling you out from under the gap between the wheels behind him. Carson looks you both over and you try your best to stand tall, straightening up and holding your head high.

"How old are you two?" Carson's eyes settle on you and you only puff your chest out further in an attempt to impress.

"Me, I'm fourteen. My brother here's ten. His name's Clint." It rolls off of Barney's tongue like it's always been true (which it has) and he's always said that (which he hasn't). He turns to you once Carson has given in to his charm, telling him that you could stay one more night and prove your worth in the morning, smiling like you share a secret.

"You like Clint, right?" Barney holds you tight, a hand running through your newly cut hair. He'd done it right before the two of you left the orphanage, cut your hair as short as he could with the scissors the nuns had left lying around, and tried to make sure it looked neat. He'd said you could fix it if it looked weird, but you'd looked in the mirror and fallen in love. "Cause you can't go back anymore."

"Yeah." You grin. "I love it."

He sighs and pulls you impossibly closer, still running his hand through the short hairs on the back of your neck, and you pat his chest. "Hey, Barn, I'll be alright as long as you stick around."

"I won't leave." His eyes speak of years of broken promises that he's still trying to atone for, and you nod. He's your brother and he's always believed you. He's always stood up for you and made sure you were safe. He'll never leave you behind.

[x]

You are thirteen when Barney and the Bearded Lady, Wanda, take you to a doctor on the outskirts of town.

You're scared about the bleeding that you've been warned of, hoping nothing grows quite right, which it thankfully hasn't. You still look every inch the prepubescent boy, able to run around shirtless and scream all you want, but you're getting to the age where things are supposed to change and a sock in your pants isn't going to fool anyone.

You sit on a table, answer questions, and stare in wonder as the doctor hands your brother a vial and some syringes, telling him how to put this magic into you. "It'll make you feel better", he says, "It'll make you feel like a real boy".

You drift into daydreams as he reads the risks, and Barney hands over money he's been saving for ages to get you enough to last a long time.

On the long walk home, you walk as close to him as you can get without looking weird, favoring your left leg, which is still sore from the shot. Barney and Wanda are walking on either side of you, shutting out the world and its too loud whispers, and you're grateful.

[x]

Carson is the only person you tell, and he makes sure your salary is put directly towards treatment.

It's just enough to pay for a bottle or two every few months and the changes keep coming. You grow taller, stronger and your shoulders widen almost overnight. Your voice cracks when you speak too loudly and you sing even more atrociously than normal.

Barney laughs, claps a hand on your shoulder, and tells you you're becoming a man now.

A man.

Clint.

His brother.

You love it.

[x]

Four years later, Barney and Trickshot leave you shaking in the dust, naked from the waist down, busted kneecaps screaming in pain as blood pools under them, and the cut on your side pours blood into the rapidly darkening dirt.

The last thing Barney ever said to you was "Claire Frances Barton, I hope you're happy with yourself."

You're not.

After the hospital treats the beginnings of your injuries, you run before they can ask more questions about Claire.

You are not Claire, were never Claire, and don't think you'll ever know why you trusted anyone.

You won't make that mistake again.

[x]

Two years later, SHIELD finds you sick and weak and takes you in immediately as their own.

You find out that your lady parts have been giving you some Real Super Medical Trouble, but that SHIELD fixed that up right quick. You ask how much you need to pay, how many contracts you need to fulfill, and the short, balding man you've been assigned to shakes with restrained laughter.

"No need, Clint. We'll cover it."

There it is, that elusive Clint that your heart longs and burns for.

No matter how much you love being Hawkeye, you love being Clint even more.

[x]

"Natasha--" She's kissing you as deeply as you can, her soul fusing into yours, and you have to stop her, have to fix this. "I--I can't--"

She pulls away, a brief flash of hurt across her features breaking your heart, and you cup her face in your hands, tilting her chin up so your eyes meet. "I love you, Tash, I really do, but--"

"You don't want to." She says it bluntly, makes the words sharp and solid, just like she always has. Everyone's assumed that the two of you were fucking for years, but it's never gone farther than you getting Natasha off in late afternoons, lazily kissing her to sleep after. "I see."

"I used to be a girl." There, it's out in the air. And now that you've started talking, you can't stop. "And I don't have the junk you're expecting but Coulson promised we'd get that fixed soon and--"

She kisses you again, much more soft and careful this time, as if she knows how you feel. She probably does, being Natasha after all, and nods. "You are my Clint. No matter what." Her hands unbutton your shirt and trail down your chest to your stomach, and the tingling feeling her touch leaves behind feels like a claim she's made on you.

You like it.

"If we really do this, it won't be a one time thing." Your hands go to your belt buckle before she lays her hand over yours, stilling the shaking of your fingers as you struggle to undo your pants.

"It was never a one time thing."

That's all the motivation you need to fall into each other again, and when you stare at her sleeping form in the morning, red hair mussed up from sleep and mouth hanging slightly open, you think that this could be perfect.

Besides, no one would believe you if you told them that Natasha Romanoff, the fearsome and mighty Black Widow, drools in her sleep.


End file.
